Enough
by virginiasoil
Summary: Companion piece to "Eat or be Eaten." Clarke's absence and return through Bellamy's eyes.


I don't own any characters. Jaha and Murphy never left. Enjoy!

**Enough**

He barely manages to stop the tears before he walks into camp. It takes every ounces of his will to not turn, even just to watch her go. He wants so badly to beg her to stay, to tell her how much he needs her right now, how he can't go through this alone, how he needs her to help him process his guilt. But more than that, he wants her to be okay, so he doesn't turn around.

Bellamy has always been able to read Clarke, to somehow know exactly what she needs. He knows her nearly as well as he knows himself or O at this point. That's why, when she tells him she needs to go, he doesn't stop her. She needs solitude. She needs to face her demons on her own. She needs to be selfish. She needs to go.

He needs her to stay.

But more than that he needs her to be okay.

He doesn't turn back once as he walks into camp, feeling like some fucked up version of Orpheus with a cheek that still burns from her kiss.

* * *

Part of him doesn't want to tell anyone. His selfish, angry, whatever the hell we want side is dying for as much moonshine as he can get his hands on and a quiet, secluded part of camp. But as soon as he sees Abby lying on the ground, Kane speaking quietly to her, Bellamy knows he can't run from this.

He isn't like her.

"Clarke is gone." His voice is hoarse and cold. It nearly breaks when he says her name. Abby and Kane look up, confusion painted across their faces.

"What? What do you mean my daughter is gone?"

"She left. She doesn't want to come back, she needs to be alone."

Abby stares up at him in shock and Kane asks if Clarke plans to ever return.

"I don't know." He replies bitterly, refusing to meet their eyes. He feels tears threatening to spill over again but forces them back. The two adults are silent for a moment, and then Abby breaks the calm.

"How could you let her go! Why didn't you stop her! She needs us! She needs to be safe! God damn it, Blake! Why the hell didn't you make her come in?" Her voice is harsh and hard, unforgiving. The fire in her eyes makes him realize how remarkably similar she and her daughter look. He doesn't answer; instead focusing on watching Octavia and Lincoln help the survivors find their families.

"This is all your fault." Her voice is quiet this time, a stark contrast to her words a moment before. Bellamy turns back to the livid woman.

"How the fuck is any of this my fault?" Her eyes widen at his profanity but he doesn't care anymore. He is so tired. So very tired.

"You let her go. What if she dies out there? She is weak and mentally unstable right now and you let her walk into those woods! How is she going to survive? She didn't have a pack, or any weapon other than her gun! You let her go to die!"

He feels bile in this throat. Abby is right. She didn't have a pack and her gun had to be down to only a few bullets.

"I tried." This time his voice is quiet, broken.

"Well you didn't try hard enough."

"Abby." Kane gives her a warning glance as Bellamy looks down in shame, this time he can't stop the silent tears that roll down his cheeks. She is right, he tells himself. He wasn't enough. He gave her what she gave him all those months ago. Forgiveness. Absolution. For him it had been enough.

Not enough to free him of guilt, but enough to return.

She had been enough.

He hadn't.

Kane stands and puts a hand on his shoulder. "You need to tell them." The older man nods at the delinquents. They are hugging each other, their parents, and strangers. It's a somber scene, yet Bellamy can sense the relief the group radiates. He doesn't want to have to tell them. He doesn't want to think about what just happened. He just wants to sleep and then get drunk and then sleep some more. "Tell them, and then go do whatever you need to do." Bellamy looks back at Kane, understanding is in the councilman's eyes. Suddenly Bellamy feels exposed, vulnerable. He clenches his jaw and nods tightly before walking to where the survivors of the original 100 are milling about.

He immediately captures their attention with his presence alone. Countless pairs of eyes stare at him, waiting. He takes a deep, shuddering breath, rubs his nose, crosses his arms, and tells them.

* * *

He gets drunk that night. Alone. In her tent.

* * *

For a week he manages to push his worry away. Bellamy is convinced she will be back. She has to be. Each day he focuses on taking care of their people, like she asked. He makes sure Monty is handling his guilt okay. He makes sure Jasper eats something. He makes sure Harper is getting plenty of rest.

For a week he distracts himself by talking with Kane about how to best train the guards.

For a week he plans out hunting parties and argues with Abby over the necessity of building new, permanent buildings instead of relying on the Ark and tents.

For a week he hovers around Octavia, relishing in the fact that she is alive and swelling with pride at her strength.

For a week he avoids Clarke's empty tent.

Then that week ends.

* * *

The search party was Raven's idea. Well, really he had the idea in his head since he turned his back on her, but it was Raven who burst into the council meeting demanding someone look for Clarke. Kane put him in charge of the mission and Bellamy has yet to decide if that was a punishment or a gift.

Walking through the woods, he can't help but think of all the ways she may have died already. There are bears in these woods, and panthers, and grounders that still hold a grudge about the drop ship bomb. But she is Clarke. She is tough as nails. She will be okay. She has to be okay.

As leaves and sticks crunch under his feet he feels her kiss on his cheek again. Anger swells in his gut.

How could she do this to him? How could she just leave him to deal with their guilt on his own? Maybe she could handle solitude, maybe she thrived in it, but he did not. He needed others. He needed her.

"I don't see any tracks, Bell." Octavia's voice is soft, but cold. His sister still hasn't forgiven Clarke; she even had the nerve to tell him that she was glad the blonde had gone.

"She's been gone a week, they could have faded. We are almost there, come on." He could practically feel his sister roll her eyes behind him. They are headed for the bunker where he taught Clarke how to shoot. Where Clarke had talked him off a ledge he wasn't sure he would have been able to come back from otherwise.

Bellamy had sent five parties out to look for her. One went to the drop ship, one went to the bunker where Finn had executed the grounder, one went to Mt. Weather, one went to the charred remains of TonDC, and he and Octavia went to the supplies depot.

If she wasn't in any of those locations, the next step would be sweeping the woods around Camp Jaha. If that didn't work… well he didn't want to think about the possibility of that not working.

They passed by the tree where Clarke had saved him. He had been ready to die, ready to let Dax free him from his guilt. If Clarke hadn't been there…

A fresh wave of guilt washed over him. She had been enough for him, but he wasn't enough for her.

* * *

When they regroup at Camp Jaha, nobody reports any sign of Clarke.

Bellamy gets drunk again that night, this time in the woods staring up at the stars.

* * *

For a month he sends out search team after search team, scoping every inch of the woods that they can. He feels like Odysseus, desperately searching for Ithaca with what feels like the world working against him.

Instead of 20 years, he is given one month.

Kane tells him that they are no longer sending teams, that it is too dangerous and too hopeless and if she wants to come back she will.

Bellamy tells him to go fuck himself.

His own cadets have to drag him out of the council chamber.

He put everything he had into the search mission, but once again, he wasn't enough.

* * *

He apologizes to Kane the next day.

Kane nods, tells him its okay.

Then he suggests Bellamy go hunting. They need lots of meat for the upcoming winter after all. "In fact," Kane says, "You should probably go hunting as much as possible, when you aren't needed here in camp."

Bellamy narrows his eyes before nodding and leaving the council chamber.

It unsettles Bellamy how well the older man can read him.

* * *

Over the following months he falls into a rhythm.

He allows himself to be consumed by work in the camp. Bellamy helps build new structures, mediate conflicts between the delinquents, train guards, chop wood, and store food. Kane takes him under his wing, letting him sit in on council meetings, teaching him battle strategies he learned on the Ark, questioning him about Earth and what the 100 had experienced before the Ark fell out of the sky. Part of Bellamy wants to ask the older man why he has taken such an interest in a would-be assassin who refused to listen to Jaha, Abby, and him, but at the same time he doesn't want Kane to back off.

He never had a father. The bastard had left his mom when Bellamy was two.

Kane never had a son. He never made the time for a family.

When Bellamy isn't involved in camp, he takes Kane's advice and hunts. Each trip is in a new location, each one lasts a little bit longer than the last as his desperation grows.

He looks for animals, occasionally bringing them back.

But in truth none of his hunts are successful. He never brings back a stubborn blonde hurricane.

* * *

The first, true, pure laugh he hears since Mt. Weather dances into his ears when the first snow falls.

The camp had woken up to a blanket of white. The children and delinquents had all but neglected their camp duties and are now running around the center of camp launching snowballs at each other. Some make snowmen, a couple make snow angels. A few girls dance around in the snow, squealing with delight. He cracks a small smile, something Octavia would call a miracle if she weren't too busy rolling in the snow with Lincoln. Its nice to see them acting like kids again. It reminds him of the early days before everything went to shit.

He wonders if it's snowing where she is.

He hopes she has a coat.

* * *

When the fourth month rolls around, there is a silent agreement throughout camp that she is not coming back.

At this point they have all moved into the Ark where Monty, Raven, and Wick have managed to get the heat working. He shares a room with Miller and Murphy, opting not to live with Octavia and Lincoln.

He hears people whispering about her all the time.

Whenever he is nearby their voices drop lower and they give him pitying looks.

"Four months", they say, "there is no way she is coming back."

Four months, "she is probably dead."

Four months, "I bet she joined the grounders."

Four months, "I wonder if she killed herself."

Four months, "A bear probably ate her a week in, that's why we didn't find a body."

He fucking hates them all.

He tells Miller that.

He also tells him that he doesn't think Clarke is coming back.

He says he is fine with that. She made her choice.

It's a lie.

* * *

By the fifth month he thinks he is okay. He thinks he finally accepts her choice.

The delinquents are laughing again. Jasper and Monty are finally talking. Wick and Raven no longer try to hide their relationship. Jaha has finally stopped arguing with Kane about allowing Bellamy in the council chamber. There is peace, trade agreements in the works, and they are finally able to get the showers working. Their first baby is due in May. Food is always available. Octavia doesn't mope nearly as much and Lincoln has asked Bellamy permission to marry O in the spring.

Life is good.

He smiles, and laughs. He is not nearly as gruff with the cadets as he was four months ago. He is pretty sure that Lora is into him and thinks that he may pursue that. It had been months since he had a good fuck.

During the day he is fine.

It's at night that he isn't. When she comes to him in dreams. Sometimes she is dying, sometimes she is killing him, and sometimes she is fucking him. Sometimes he sees all those he killed on the Ark, all those in Mt. Weather. He sees Lovejoy and his son, his limbs recalling the feeling of squeezing the life out of a man.

He knows that Miller and Murphy pretend not hear his screams.

In the morning he is a wreck, but he pushes it away. Buries it deep.

Hides it under the floorboards.

But it isn't enough.

He wasn't enough.

* * *

He hadn't gone hunting a week, the council had kept him busy testing the cadets and then rebuilding one of the new cabin's roofs after a cave in. His dream the night before had been a particularly bad one and when he saw the sun and felt the warmth of the day, he knew there wasn't a question. He was going out whether or not they allowed it.

He told Kane, who simply nodded, then found Monroe and James. They didn't take much. One gun, two spears, a flask of water and some nuts. The plan was to be back before dinner, nobody knew how long the great weather would last.

Then Monroe slipped on a rock and twisted her ankle.

And James sneezed as he threw his spear, narrowly missing Bellamy's shoulder.

And Bellamy misjudged the distance of a deer, wasting a bullet.

Needless to say, when the snow starts nobody is in a good mood. The flakes of frozen water make it even worse.

"Fuck."

Bellamy and James are helping Monroe to hope along, he knows they are too far away from the Ark and that they wont be back before tomorrow at this pace. They decide to set up camp in a shallow cave. As James builds a fire, Bellamy looks at Monroe's ankle.

"We aren't going to be back before tomorrow evening at the earliest."

James sighs in frustration, "We aren't prepared for this weather, Bellamy. How are we gonna get back carrying her?"

"I swear to God if you leave me behind-"

"Nobody is leaving you behind, Monroe." Bellamy tries to hide his frustration, but his voice is harsh. "I'll carry you if that's what it comes to. James is right, we don't have the right gear for this weather."

Its days like this that he hates Earth.

* * *

They sleep, huddled together for warmth by their dying fire. Bellamy dreams that he and Clarke pull the lever again, but all the survivors from the Ark die of radiation instead of those in Mt. Weather. He wakes with a start and slips out of the shallow cave, holding himself to try and stay warm.

His guilt consumes him, washing over him like waves he can't fight. For almost six months he has been holding it in, trying to bear it on his own. He feels like Atlas and the world is getting too heavy. The voices of the kids he saw in Mt. Weather surround him. Lovejoy's kid would never see the snow, never build a snowman.

He was a murderer, an exterminator of innocence.

He killed innocents on the Ark by stealing a radio. He killed innocents in Mt. Weather by pulling a lever.

He was supposed to lead the kids he came down to earth with, but he just stole their innocence. It was under his leadership they ended up in that God forsaken mountain.

Octavia no longer chased butterflies. Jasper and Monty no longer high fived themselves. They all still smiled and laughed, but there was a hardness in their eyes that hadn't been there before.

And Clarke. Oh God. Clarke. She had been the sunshine. A pain in his ass, yes, but she seemed like summer itself when he first saw her.

He remembered feeling like Hades looking at Persephone for the first time.

But the last time he had seen her, she couldn't be farther from Persephone.

He had dragged summer into the underworld with him. Now she was Death, just like him.

* * *

Maybe she is dead.

She is probably dead.

She didn't have a pack.

He would have been her Hercules if she had let him. He would have lifted the weight of the world off her shoulders, allowed her to breathe. He would have been anything she wanted.

But he wasn't enough.

* * *

It's dark when they finally limp back into camp. Bellamy's arms are screaming from carrying Monroe the last two miles. His legs ache from wading through the deep snow. Exhausted from getting only an hour of sleep the night before, he fights to keep his eyes open.

James looks ready to collapse by the time the gates open. A guard helps him back to his room on the Ark. Bellamy takes Monroe to her quarters after she insists on not waking Abby this late at night. All Bellamy really wants is his bed but when he stumbles into the room he shares with Miller and Murphy, his roommates immediately bombard him with questions.

"What are you doing here?"

"Did nobody tell you?"

He rolls his eyes angrily. If Kane or Abby want him to do something before bed they are going to be severely disappointed. He pushed past the confused men and collapsed on his bed, raking his fingers through his wet hair.

"She's back."

His whole body goes stiff.

"What?" His voice is thick, strained. If this is a fucking joke he is going to kill Murphy.

"Clarke came back a few hours ago, Monty-" before Miller can finish Bellamy out the door.

A minute later he feels like a fucking idiot to have burst out without figuring out where in the Ark she is. The council chamber is close so he goes there first only to find it abandoned. Next he goes to the mess hall and finds a few people scattered, talking quietly. None of them are blonde.

He makes his way to the med bay, praying that she is back in one piece.

As the doors open, his eyes lock on her sleeping form and his heart nearly stops.

Her blonde hair is matted down with dirt and blood, tangled and knotted. Her clothes are too loose and her body is too thin, but she is alive. Clarke is alive. Clarke is here. Clarke is alive.

Ignoring his aching bones he moves over to where she is sleeping. Its one of the cot's that Abby raised to make surgery easier so he is stuck standing next to her instead of sitting. He doesn't really care. As long as she is here. That's enough.

Tentatively, he reaches out, desperate to touch her, to feel her warmth and be reassured that she is real. Slowly he brushes his fingers against her warm cheek and lets go of a breath he didn't realize he had been holding. Delicately moving a knotted, blonde curl away from her face, Bellamy tucks it behind her ear. He lets his fingers stay there, afraid to pull them away but afraid to move them against her skin again.

She starts to shift and her eyes blink open slowly. He watches as her brows knit together. Bellamy doesn't think he has seen anything more beautiful than her in that moment. "Hey, princess." His voice is quiet; he doesn't want to startle her. The old nickname is sweet on his lips; it tastes like innocence and joy. He twists a strand of her hair in his fingers.

"Bellamy?" His hand stops and his whole body stills at the sound of his name on her lips. It has been so long. So very long.

"Yeah, its me, Clarke." His voice nearly cracks.

She sits up and inspects his appearance. He knows he must look like a mess, the cut on his cheek from tripping over a hidden root still stings and he can practically feel the bags under his eyes. Bellamy takes the moment to rememorize her face. There a couple new scares to the side of her lips, the worry lines of her face are a bit more defined. Her hair is longer; her eyes are just as blue. He suddenly has an overwhelming urge to kiss her. Unable to stop himself, Bellamy leans in closer. Their lips are so close he can feel her breath mingling with his own. He breathes in her scent and lets his fingers intertwine with hers. At the last moment he stops himself. Now is not the time. Once again, what she needs is priority. He can wait. He would wait forever.

Turning his head slightly he asks her if she did what she needed to do. She nods and whispers, "Yes." Her breath is warm. It feels like summer.

He can't help but smile because she is back. She is here, close to him. She is okay.

"Good, because this camp is going to shit without you, Princess."

The small laugh she lets out caresses his cheek and makes his gut tighten. Then, to his surprise, and utter delight, Clarke swings her legs over the side of her cot, catching his body in between her thighs. Her small arms pull him close and she rests her head against his chest. She is so warm and soft and for a moment the weight on his shoulders lifts. Unable to resist, he kisses the crown of her head and rests his chin on her hair. They stay that way for a while, locked together, two halves of one whole.

Suddenly his is overwhelmed by her. The emotions he bottled up for six months course through his veins and he croaks out a low, quiet, "I missed you," because God he had missed her so much.

"I missed you too."

He pulls her even closer then, needing to feel more of her. Needing to reassure himself that this was real. He hesitates before asking if she is back for good. He is still worried that he will lose her again.

He lost his mother, he never got her back.

He lost his sister, he only got her back after selling his soul.

He lost Clarke, and he knows that he can't lose her again.

Relief pours through his body as Clarke nods against his chest. Forcing himself to pull away, Bellamy gazes down at her. He loves her, he realizes. Somehow, he thinks, he always knew that. From the minute she told him she needed him; dragging him away from the sword he was ready to throw himself on. He thinks he knew it when he realized Gustus had poisoned the cup. Probably also when she had hugged him so tight it was hard to breath. He knows he knew it when she left him, he just hadn't been able to face that realization yet.

Now, looking down into her eyes, he can't fight it anymore. He loves her.

It scares him shitless.

Ignorant of his discovery, Clarke smiles up at him in a way that makes him want to drown in her. She leans back into the cot and tells him how exhausted she is. He just nods and turns, distracted by his own thoughts, when he feels a small but firm hand on his arm. Her voice pulls him out of his mind. "I can see the bags under your eyes, and I know you have been out with Monroe and James for two days. You need to rest too."

He can't help but smile at her concern. She is the one who has been missing for six months, he has only been gone two days. "Whatever you say, Princess."

He turns to leave again, but is stopped by the same, strong hand.

"No, Bellamy."

Now he is frustrated. Leave it to Clarke to piss him off after only being back together for a few minutes. "What do you want from me, Clarke?" He winces at bit at the irritation in his voice. Patience was never a virtue he possessed, and these past months had worn him down.

"I want you to stay." She scoots over on the small cot and he feels his eyes widen.

"There isn't room." It's a pathetic excuse and he knows it. Bellamy can feel her resisting rolling her eyes at him.

"We can make room. I'm tired Bellamy, you are tired too. I haven't seen another living person in six months and I don't really want to be alone."

He doesn't want to be alone either. He doesn't want to face his dreams alone. He doesn't want to be separated from her again. He needs her.

Bellamy feels her heavy gaze on him as he pulls off his jacket and kicks off her boots. When he sits on the small cot Clarke turns to her side. He knows he should probably mimic her position. That's what she is expecting he's sure. But he has been waiting six months and he still doesn't completely believe this is real.

He curls around her small body and pulls her into him. Snaking one arm around her torso, he shifts the other underneath her head. Clarke stiffens before melting into him after a moment. For the first time in a long time, Bellamy Blake feels at peace.

"I'm glad you're back, Princess."

"Me too."


End file.
